Love, Hope and Speaking Now
by A Hint Of Mint
Summary: "Why was I here? I was beginning to have second thoughts about this. I, Hermione Jean Granger, was gatecrashing a wedding." And not just any wedding, but the wedding of one Draco Malfoy. How the hell did she get there? She's not too sure herself. Only, it had something to do with Love, Hope, and Speaking Now.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not in any way, shape or form, own Harry Potter and all its related franchises. Would I be posting on if I did? No. I would be too busy trying to get myself cast as a companion in Doctor Who. XD I also do not own Taylor Swift's song 'Speak Now'. If I did, I'd be busy taking singing lessons and getting myself into broadway musicals. **

**Now that that's out of the way, I'll try to keep this brief- hi everyone and thanks for deciding my story is worth at least having a look at. Here's to the next ten or so years of wonderful fandom-ness together. Hope you enjoy. **

**And without further ado, Mint presents to you... **

**Love, Hope and Speaking Now**

_"Why was I here? I was beginning to have second thoughts about this. I, Hermione Jean Granger, was gatecrashing a wedding."_ And not just any wedding, but the wedding of one Draco Malfoy. How the hell did she get there? She's not too sure herself. Only, it had something to do with Love, Hope, and Speaking Now.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**_I am not the kind of girl_**

**_That should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion_**

I wiped my sweaty palms on a hot pink suede armchair and tried to even out my breathing. Of course, normally I wouldn't condone wiping my hands on someone else's furniture but since nothing about this situation was 'normal', and since the armchair was decorating an already hideous reception area for a wedding I had little plans to tolerate anyway, I figured that wiping a sweaty palm here or there wasn't going to make much of a difference. Why was I here? I was beginning to have second thoughts about this. The entire business was surreal. I, Hermione Jean Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, was gatecrashing a wedding.

* * *

**_But you are not the kind of boy_**

**_That should be marrying the wrong girl_**

I knew I shouldn't be here. It wasn't because I was not invited; it was because my being here would guarantee something stupid from me. I had a tendency to disconnect from my brain during stressful times and do whatever I had to in order to get through the stress. Unfortunately, being disconnected from your brain doesn't do wonders for your ability to think straight and what I ended up doing to get out of stressful situations invariably ended up embarrassing me. But I hadn't been able to stop myself this morning as I put on a rose-pink silk dress, curled my hair, applied my make-up, put on my heels. This wedding shouldn't be happening. Everything about it screamed _wrong_.

_Oh, and I suppose you and Draco are the epitome of_ right _then, I suppose?_ A snide little voice in my head commented, and I shut it out. Not before I could hear and concede the very valid point it presented, though. Who was I to say who or what was right for Draco? He was intelligent enough to make up his own damn mind, thank you very much, as he had told me on countless occasions. But somehow, despite everything, my body had refused to obey the orders that my mind was screaming at it, choosing instead to walk out of the house and head to the wedding in those _wicked_, pointed, completely impractical red strappy shoes that I would never be caught dead wearing, let alone buying.

_But you did buy them,_ the snide voice said, _and who were they for again?_

_I thought you were_ against _me crashing this wedding_, I thought fiercely to the voice. If voices inside people's heads could shrug, this one would have just done it.

_Hey, I'm a figment of your mind,_ it said, _and at the moment your mind is pretty confused. So I'm being confused right along with it._

I sighed and shook my head, trying to clear it. Yes, despite everything, I was here at the wedding now, poised to do something that I would probably regret later on. Because deep, deep down inside, I knew that Astoria Greengrass was not the kind of girl that Draco Malfoy should be marrying. He needed someone who could match his sharp wit and quick mind. He needed someone more sophisticated, more elegant, more intelligent.

_And what do you propose to do about it?_ The voice in my head kept saying. _You're not exactly in a position to tell him as much. Face it, girl, he's getting _married_. What makes you think he's going to listen to you? Why do you care anyway?_

I frowned. Surely there must be some rule against hearing annoying, sensible voices in your head? Wasn't that the first sign of madness, or something?

_You've always been mad, honey, ever since you fell for those stupidly grey eyes of his,_ the voice sighed, and I very nearly sighed out loud with it, too.

_Shut up_, I instructed the voice, and, squaring my shoulders, walked in past the reception area into the main hallway.

* * *

**_I sneak in and see your friends_**

**_And her snotty little family, all dressed in pastel_**

"Granger."

A curt greeting stopped me before I'd taken two steps down the hallway, and I turned to see Blaise Zabini nodding at me shortly.

"Zabini," I returned, and we stood for a while in an uncomfortable silence, which he broke.

"I'm surprised, Granger. I didn't expect to see you at this particular wedding."

"Neither did I, honestly," I answered back, wondering why he was humouring me. He may have been Draco's best friend, but Zabini was having a harder time than Draco at getting over old prejudices. To him, I was still 'The Mudblood'.

"I didn't take you to be a masochist, Granger," he said quietly, suddenly dropping his cool demeanour to reveal an almost believable façade of courteousness. I was taken aback. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that Zabini was trying to give me advice. "Why are you here, really? You shouldn't have to go through this. There's nothing you can do."

"I believe in the motto 'know thine enemies'," I answered back promptly, and Zabini's eyes widened.

"Don't tell me you're still fighting for him, Granger—"

"Shhh," I warned him, putting a finger to my lips, and he stopped, cracking what might have been an attempt at a smile.

"Your secret is safe with me," he informed me, his eyes twinkling. "How can I deny myself the chance to watch Hermione Granger, possibly the most famous witch of this age, make a scene at Draco Malfoy's wedding?" He mock saluted me and left, leaving me grimacing. I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to that, but then again I had no idea what I was planning to do— I'd gotten to the wedding with no plan as to how I would convince Draco to stop this insanity. I stood there in the corridor trying to come up with one on the spot, and failed. In the end I simply resorted to walking and trying to find Draco again.

I was looking in one of the many dressing rooms that lined the hallway when I bumped into Pansy Parkinson, wearing an ivory coloured bridesmaid gown. Her short black hair was half up in curls and had white orchids laced into them. She looked quite beautiful, if you ignored the horrendously bright pink shoes that she had obviously been forced into wearing.

"Granger," she said, when she got over the initial shock of seeing me. "What are you doing here?"

I frowned. It seemed everyone was asking me that question. Didn't they know I had been invited too? I had just as much right to be here as any of them. I decided to let it drop for the moment, however.

"Scouting around," I answered truthfully, and Pansy shot me a sharp look. She glanced around, then leaned in close to me, dropped her voice and started talking hurriedly.

"Listen, Granger, I know we aren't exactly the best of friends but if you're here to stop the wedding you have my full support. Astoria Greengrass is a class-A bitch. I don't know why Draco's marrying her. Actually, no, I do. He thinks he's let his parents down by integrating into the general wizarding society and so he thinks marrying a girl they approve of is a way of making it up to them. But my point is, you have to stop this from happening, Granger. Talk to Malfoy. You're the only one with a hope of getting through to him. If he marries her, I'm going to be stuck with her for the rest of my life. Pure-blood family obligations and things. So please. Do what you have to. Anything." She straightened up, and added aloofly, "better you than her," and swept off. I blinked. I was pretty sure I had been paid a sort-of compliment by Pansy Parkinson, the girl who lived to make my life hell for the past fourteen years. I shook my head in wonderment. First Zabini, then Parkinson… they must really not like Astoria a lot.

_Not that you like her much, either,_ the voice piped up again, just as I thought it had disappeared. I groaned and rolled my eyes at myself, before realising that I had just rolled my eyes _at myself_ and seriously considering booking a good therapist at St Mungo's. I turned a corner in the hallway and immediately turned back, as I was met with the sight of _her_ entire extended family, decked out in miserable pastel colours from a sickly pink (her mother) to a sullen yellow (her sister) to a mockery of pastel blue (her father). The Greengrass clan.

* * *

**_And she is yelling at a bridesmaid_**

**_Somewhere back inside a room wearing a gown shaped like a pastry _**

"Mother do stop crying, and no don't hug me, you'll ruin my dress, and DAPHNE! _NO_, you may not wear that brooch, give it to me! _I'm_ the bride here if you haven't noticed, it's not about you. And where is that other bridesmaid of mine? Pansy? PANSY!" I winced at the loud, grating voice of Astoria Greengrass as it went through my eardrums like one of the drills that Harry's uncle sold. Pansy appeared meekly and handed Astoria a white veil and tiara with a martyred expression. Astoria snatched it from her hand.

"About time," she said, settling the veil and tiara on over her head. "There, that's everything, finally, no thanks to any of you. How do I look?"

_Hideous_, I wanted to say.

"Beautiful, darling," her mother sniffed obligingly, and the sickening thing was that she was completely serious.

"Gorgeous, of course," her father said equally emotionally.

"Pretty, how can you not be, you're my sister!" Daphne said with an indulgent smile.

"I like your dress," Pansy smirked, and everyone looked at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious. I hoped not. I supposed Astoria was pretty enough, with her brown hair and clear, smooth skin, but her dress… well… it looked like a pile of profiteroles. There was no other way of describing it. It seemed to be formed purely of scrunched-up little balls of white silk, all held together by a black satin ribbon. The whole thing was topped off by a sickeningly girly black bow at her bust. It… it looked like someone had tried to bake her.

* * *

**_This is_**

**_Surely not what you thought it would be_**

I turned around and leaned my back against the wall I was hiding behind. My legs gave way from under me and I slid down the wall silently, internally crying my eyes out. I knew Draco. This was _not_ what he would have wanted. My mind flashed back to that night in the Head's Commons, when we both had had too many butterbeers to have been good for us.

_"I never picked you as the type to get drunk on butterbeer, ferret," I say, reaching for another bottle. "You would think having served in Voldemort's inner circle, you'd be used to something a little stronger."_

_"You're not too stable there yourself, Granger," he retorts, reaching for another bottle as well. "And you don't honestly think we sat around drinking alcohol all day with the Dark Lord? I was practically sober for an entire year. Worst year of my life," he slurs, his fingers grasping at thin air, unable to find a bottle to close them around. He frowns and looks down at his hand. I follow his gaze. My hand has been grasping at thin air as well. There is only one more bottle of butterbeer left. _

_"Looks like you're out of luck, ferret," I crow, wrapping my fingers around the bottle. "You don't need any more alcohol in your system. This bottle's mine." _

_"Not so fast, Granger," he snarls, placing a hand on mine to stop me from taking it. "It wouldn't be _chivalrous_ of me to let you have this last bottle, when you are clearly already off your face." _

_"Watch your mouth, ferret, I am not off my face!" I say, doing my best not to let the vowels slur. "And even if I was, I would be more than capable of hexing your arse back to fourth year and re-watch Moody bounce you around the dungeons as your furry white alter ego." _

_Draco winces, but doesn't let go of my hand._

_"Fine, then, we'll play for this bottle," he says, his grey eyes capturing mine with an unsettling intensity. "A drinking game. In keeping with being chivalrous, you may ask the first question. The first person who refuses to answer a question loses. If the other person doesn't deem it a satisfactory answer, either, you lose as well. Go on then, ask."_

_"Tell me about your dream wedding," I blurt out, then blush. Really? I have the chance to ask ferret-boy any question that I felt obliged to ask and I ask him about his dream wedding? I must be drunker than I realised. _

_"Really? You have the chance to ask me about any question in the world and you ask me about my dream wedding? If you weren't your righteous Granger self and you'd never fall in love with a git like me, I'd think you have… intentions towards me," he smirks, and I resist an urge to strangle him. "Just answer," I say heatedly._

_"As you wish," he mocks, and then turns serious. "I guess my dream wedding depends a lot on the girl. I'd obviously have to be marrying someone I love. Someone who's actually got a brain, unlike some of the moronic pure-blood girls my mother sees fit to push towards me." He snorts. "It should be classy, elegant, understated… my family, both my parents, should be there." He pauses for a while, perhaps remembering that his father was in Azkaban now. "I'd like a traditional wedding. Tuxes, a white dress for the girl, bridesmaids, flowergirls, best man, pageboys. Rings, understated diamond solitaires. Though I wouldn't say no to emerald adornments." I roll my eyes. "Traditional vows. Though perhaps not wizarding vows; they're a little archaic… a little creepy to be honest. The muggle ones would do I guess… they're mostly similar, except the muggle ones don't have the death threats for the spouses." He blushes faintly as I stare at him incredulously. _

_"Draco Malfoy," I say, "Did you just admit you liked the muggle marriage vows better than the wizarding ones? Stop the presses! Draco Malfoy—"_

_"Hush, you insufferable witch," he snaps. "Don't you want to hear the rest of my answer?" I couldn't snap back if I wanted to; his hand is on my mouth, his face inches from mine. I nod mutely and he takes his hand away from my mouth and continues. _

_"So yes, muggle vows, I suppose, although I'm sure I could find a way to sneak some magical phrases in there." He smirks, daring me to disagree. I maturely poke my tongue out at him. _

_"What haven't I told you... understated, classy, elegant... I think you've heard that part before... right, traditional music. That's probably going to be the only downside to my wedding— that I can't be the one playing the music. I don't know where I'd find a replacement pianist as good as me." He allows himself a snide little grin as I stare at him._

_"You play the piano? A muggle instrument? You play the piano?"_

_"Why yes, Granger, surprised? It was part of my upbringing as the perfect pureblooded heir. Obviously." A small note of distaste creeps into his voice. "But there you have it, satisfied?" his face returns to a carefully constructed expression of annoying superiority and I let it go._

_"Fine," I admit, still not taking my hands off the bottle. I notice, quite suddenly, that he hasn't taken his hand off mine either. A wave of heat flashes through my body. _

_"And now you've got me curious," he says, leaning in towards me, a finger held up unconsciously almost like he was going to trace my blush down my cheekbones, but not quite touching. "Tell me about your wedding, Granger. Oh wait, let me guess, a demonstration of the correct brewing of the ridiculously difficult Amortentia and recitations of the twelve uses of dragon's blood for the vows?" He smirks and leans back away from me, lounging on the chair again, though still without taking his hand off mine. I glare._

_"As a matter of fact, ferret, I would also like a traditional wedding," I snap. "White dress, veil, tiara, bouquet. All the traditional muggle customs… there's this one where, when everything's all done, the bride throws her bouquet over her shoulder to the assembled guests and the person who catches it is supposedly going to be the next one married." I blush, remembering my cousin's wedding where I had been the one to catch the bouquet. For some reason, that thought coupled with the image of a slightly dishevelled Draco sitting in front of me, absentmindedly loosening his tie, makes me feel like little electric currents are running up and down my body. I hurry on quickly before he notices my lapse in concentration._

_"So I'd like all those little muggle customs. I'd want all my family to be there, and I mean all, including my cousins and parents and aunts and uncles… you see, Draco, not being a precious little 'pureblood' family means I actually have a family," I snark, and he snorts. "Although… I'm not entirely sure how I would hide the magical parts of the wedding to them…. But I'm sure I'll find a way, as long as the magic wasn't too blatant. Music, dancing, laughter, good food. I don't mind if my wedding isn't classy or elegant as long as everyone was having fun," I finish, darting a slightly snide look to Draco who is nodding. _

_"I suppose so," he says, then flashes me a devilish grin that knocks the breath out of me. In another second, the bottle of butterbeer is out from under my hand and at his lips, being tipped open to pour the contents down his throat._

_"WHAT THE HELL?" I demand irately, lunging for the bottle. "What was that for?! If you weren't satisfied with my answer, you could've at least given me warning!" Draco, laughing, lifts the bottle out of my reach and I fall on top of him and resort to hitting his chest. He places the bottle behind him and locks my wrists in his hands. I stop struggling, suddenly very aware of his proximity to me. _

_"Who says I wasn't satisfied with your answer?" he breathes, his lips at my ear. I hold back a shiver and an almost involuntary reaction to lean in closer to him. His scent is intoxicating, butterbeer and soap and leather and something else I cannot identify. _

_"But then… why?" I say, annoyed that my voice sounds breathy, not irritated. He moves his face from my ear along my jawline, down to my neck, not touching; just very close to my skin. He stops at my throat._

_"My dear Hermione, I am a Slytherin. You didn't honestly trust me to keep my word, did you?" he whispers against my skin, his breath on my neck. I stop for a moment before my brain processes what he has actually said. I shove him away from me, but there is an unwilling grin spreading on my face. He is still laughing as I realise two things, one: in his dream wedding, he didn't specify a pure-blood girl as his bride, and two: he has called me Hermione for the first time in the eight years that I have known him._

* * *

**_I lose myself in a daydream_**

**_Where I stand and say_**

I shook my head and pulled myself out of my memories. This was no time for me to be falling apart. I needed to be composed; I needed to find Draco and tell him… tell him…

_You still can't say it, even to yourself,_ the voice said exasperatedly. _Do you need any more convincing?_ I tried to come up with a withering retort that would shut the voice up but before I could, my mind pulled me back into a persistent fantasy of mine. Not a memory; only a moment I wish could be true. A moment that, at the current time, seemed more unlikely to ever happen than Moaning Myrtle taking up a residence somewhere outside of that bathroom.

_I see him, standing there, looking perfect in the sunlight. Spring is in full bloom around him, and the vibrant colours are a sharp contrast against his pale features. He turns to smile at me, and it is a smile full of warmth, void of malice, sarcasm, bitterness, or anything else that haunts his troubled past. _

_"Hermione," he says, and his voice is light; carefree, as I have never heard it before. _

_I swallow. "Draco," I whisper, afraid that if I speak too loudly, move too quickly, he will sprout wings and fly away from me before my eyes. _

_He laughs. "You sound worried," He holds out a hand, and his eyes are hopeful. "Come on. Let's go for a walk. I really hate to talk about something as mundane as the weather, but it really is beautiful today." He laughs again, and I smile too, hearing his trademark snarky wit. I put my hand in his hesitantly and before my courage deserts me, I say:_

_"IthinkIloveyou."_

I snapped my eyes open. I couldn't let Draco go without telling him how I felt. Even if he didn't feel the same way; even if nothing could be changed, even if he _loved _Astoria Greengrass, I simply couldn't live with the fact that I had done _nothing_ while the man I had come to love was whisked away in front of my eyes. I stood up, determined to find Draco and tell him… tell him that…

* * *

**Feel free to drop me a review about anything. I will do my best to reply, especially if you have questions. I adore chatter, dah-lings. **

**Love,**

**~Mint **


	2. Chapter 2

******A/N: This story is finished already, so it won't take me long to upload each new chapter. It's a 4-chapter story. **

******Enjoy! **

**~Mint **

**Chapter 2**

_I stood up, determined to find Draco and tell him… tell him that… _

**_Don't say yes, run away now_**

"Granger?" Pansy hissed in my ear, and I almost died of heart failure. "What are you doing, moping back here?! Get your arse to Draco _now!_ The wedding starts in fifteen minutes!" She disappeared as quickly as she had appeared once her message was delivered, and I was left with no one to vent my frustrations at: _Yes of course the wedding starts in fifteen minutes, but WOULD IT HAVE REALLY KILLED YOU TO TELL ME WHERE TO FIND HIM?_ I still had no clue, and the venue was really very large. I had no idea where I could find Draco and tell him to stop and run away from this madness.

**_I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door_**

I walked along the corridor, hurrying now, not bothering to conceal myself from the curious gazes of the guests who were slowly starting to arrive. Suddenly, finding Draco was the most important thing in my mind. Everything else paled into insignificance next to it. I didn't care if Astoria herself saw me rushing to find her hopefully never-to-be husband. I needed to find Draco and tell him that I would be with him; just as long as he got out of this church _now_.

**_Don't wait or say a single vow_**

Didn't he say he wanted muggle vows? Didn't he say he wanted a traditional, classy, _elegant_ wedding? This wedding was none of those things. And I could bet my salary that the Greengrasses, as prominent purebloods, wouldn't take too kindly to muggle vows at the wedding for their precious younger daughter. The wizarding vows were magically and legally binding for life. He couldn't be allowed to say a word of it, let alone go through ALL of it.

**_You need to hear me out_**

I would make him listen somehow. Even if he didn't want to see me, I would find a way to let him know how I felt. I needed to find him NOW. Otherwise the wedding would start and I wouldn't get a chance to say…

**_And they said, 'Speak now'._**

And the church bells started ringing, signalling the beginning of the wedding.

**_Fond gestures are exchanged_**

**_And the organ starts to play a song that sounds like a death march_**

"Merlin's pants," I cursed, as all the guests started making their way towards the main hall where the wedding would be taking place. I tried making my way against the crowd for a few minutes, before realising that it was futile and resigned myself to being swept away in the general direction of the main hall. _Where Draco would be married to Astoria._ There was nothing I could do to stop it now. Tears welled up behind my eyes and I did my best to quash them down. Astoria might be able to marry Draco uninterrupted, but I would NOT give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I would see through the entire wedding smiling even if it killed me.

All around me, the corridors were filled with people celebrating; congratulating each other, clapping each other on the back, hugging; little displays of fondness as was common at weddings. My eyes locked onto a happy looking brunette holding hands with a tall blonde and my heart contracted.

_That could have been me and him_, I thought wistfully, then corrected myself. No, that was what I wanted me and him to be; the truth was it could never have happened. Even if he did love me back, he would never have gone against his parent's wishes, all his friends' expectations, the society that he had been brought up in. He wouldn't go through all that rejection for me. It was simply too much.

Through a film of tears that I still refused to let go cascading down my cheeks, I could see the main hall, guarded by two doormen. It seemed that they weren't letting anyone through who hadn't been exclusively invited. I felt a flutter of panic that I consciously held at bay. Why would I be so scared? I had been invited too, just as much as anybody. The ex-Slytherins' surprise at seeing me here was just getting to me. I squared my shoulders and mentally readied myself to go through hell.

And the first note of the music rang out.

**_And I am hiding in the curtains_**

**_It seems that I was uninvited by your lovely bride-to-be_**

"Hermione?" A shocked voice broke through my grim determination and I turned, disarmed. I knew that voice. A black-haired, bespectacled, green-eyed face looked down at me with mingled surprise and pleasure, and I almost jumped him, so happy I was to see him.

"Harry! Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" I said and threw my arms around him. He smiled, bemused, before disengaging my stranglehold and looking perplexed again.

"Hermione…? It's good to see you too. Really. But what are you doing here?"

I snapped. _Everyone_ was asking me that question! What was their _problem_? Did they not realise that I had been invited _too?_

"Contrary to popular belief, I was actually _invited_ to this wedding, Potter! Does everyone think so lowly of me that I would ignore a wedding invite from one of my… friends… just because I don't… particularly… like the person he's marrying?" I growled, and Harry took a step back, alarmed at my sudden change in demeanour.

"No, no, of course I don't… Hermione?" he asked, worry saturating his voice. "They… didn't she… didn't she tell you?"

"Who tell me _what?_" I snapped, still irritated. Harry looked at me with a mixture of pity and sadness.

"She… Astoria Greengrass…" he took a deep breath. "No-one told you she uninvited you?"

"She _what?"_ I snarled. "She… she… _uninvited _me? How _dare _she! Wait— does Draco know? How do _you_ know? Since when have you been on speaking terms with Astoria Greengrass?" My rational side told me I was being unreasonable; if I thought a certain friend of my fiancé's was going to come to my wedding and ruin it, I would probably disinvite her too. But all my irrational side cared about was that there was now no way I could get through those doors still guarded by the bored-looking doormen. I shot them poisonous glares, hoping they would drop dead. No such luck.

Harry backed away, holding his hands out apologetically. "I _don't_ speak to her, Hermione, I only found out when I got here and you weren't on the guest list! And I don't think Draco knows, either, somehow I don't see him being too pleased with a wife he isn't even happy with casually disinviting his friends to _his_ wedding," he said, and my anger abated; for some stupid reason, the only phrase I could concentrate on in Harry's speech was _wife he isn't even happy with._

"He's… not… happy… with Astoria Greengrass?" I asked dumbly. Sure, Pansy and Blaise had hinted as much, but somehow hearing it from Harry made it much more _real._ Perhaps it was because I knew him to be a reliable source of information, even though where Draco was concerned the Slytherins were likely to be much more accurate. Either way, I didn't care.

"Who would be, really?" Harry quipped wryly, before turning serious. "But seriously, the question still stands. What are you doing here? This is just going to hurt you. And you know Astoria, do you really think she's going to let you walk out of here gracefully? She's going to make a scene. She's not going to care that you're one of her husband's good friends, she's only going to see you as a potential threat to her perfect wedding. Please, Hermione, I don't want to see you get hurt. Please, just go home," Harry was practically pleading by now, but I had to see this wedding through. His words just hardened my resolve. I didn't know why; I didn't particularly think I was masochistic in any way. But I had a _feeling_ I had to see this wedding through, one way or another.

"I… I can't explain it, Harry," I whispered. "I… I'm not sure why I'm not just turning around and leaving right now. But… I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of letting her know she's _got to me._ I'm going to see all of this wedding, I need to Harry, if only to convince myself he's really out of reach— I have to!" My voice must have been edging close to desperation, because Harry just looked at me for a while. His expression was slowly changing from pity to his _I've got a plan_ determined look. The look that never boded too well for either Ron… or me.

"Okay then, Hermione… I have a plan."

_Uh-oh._ "Yes, Harry?" I asked, trying not to sound _too_ long suffering.

"Well, you need to get into the hall either way, yes? But you're uninvited. Ginny's not here, she's not feeling too well, but she was invited too. You can disguise yourself as Ginny and walk through with me."

That was actually a good plan. "That's genius, Harry! Wait one sec," I said, and cast a quick glamour charm over myself, mimicking Ginny's red hair and complexion. I remembered with a grimace that I was wearing a pink dress and hoped Ginny would forgive me for tarnishing her fashion-queen image by wearing pink with her flaming hair. Harry offered me his arm and I slipped mine through his. We walked past the two doormen, who barely gave us a second glance. I was in.

"Thank you, Harry," I whispered, before kissing him on the cheek and turning away from him.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed under his breath. "You're supposed to be sitting with me, remember?"

"I know," I replied, "But I only cast a glamour charm on myself, and they… well… they depend on the user's ability to… Okay, if I become too emotional, it's going to dissolve… I don't think I can make it through the whole wedding," I pleaded, eyeing a corner draped with some conveniently placed curtains. Harry followed my gaze, and nodded tightly. I quickly walked over to the curtains, disillusioning myself so as not to draw attention to my slipping behind them. Once I was sure I was carefully hidden, I took off all enchantments placed on me. I felt the disguise slipping away to reveal my brown hair and olive skin.

**_She floats down the aisle_**

**_Like a pageant queen_**

"Transparo," I whispered, and a section of the curtains became clear, giving me an unobstructed view of what was happening in the hall. It was a spell I had invented a few years back, based on the muggle two-way mirror. This way, I could see them, but none of them could see me.

What I saw made me almost want to take the charm off and cry my eyes out. _Almost._ There were maybe close to a thousand people there, all being presided over by a short, balding wizard who was apparently conducting the ceremony. Draco stood at the top of the aisle, dashing in black and white if it hadn't been for the bright pink tie clashing with his fair complexion. His expression was martyred, even thought he was trying to hide it. And Astoria Greengrass was floating down the aisle in her horrible silk dress, the veil secured to her head by a glittering tiara and flowing down her back to form a ten-foot-long train. She was winking and waving at the guests, making every step deliberate, enjoying herself, enjoying the attention she was getting.

_You better enjoy it now, because this is going to be the_ only _time you're ever going to get attention from people,_ I thought, uncharacteristically vicious. _Oh Merlin, Draco, what have you done with me?_

**_But I know_**

**_You wish it was me, you wish it was me, don't you?_**

What has he done with her? Ha, now that was a question subject to so much interpretation. I looked over at Draco again, and his expression this time was unmistakeable: desperation. He didn't want to be there. Or maybe he did; he just didn't want to be there with _her_ gliding down the aisle towards him. I slid down the wall slowly, tipping my head back and closing my eyes, losing myself to the tide of memories that threatened to overwhelm me. One particular memory of when I had been shopping for dresses came to mind, no doubt spurred by the sight of Astoria's silk nightmare.

_I am shopping for a bridesmaid's dress for Ginny and Harry's wedding. Ginny's dress is white brocade with red satin accents— ever the Gryffindor— and I am looking for something to complement it, pale gold perhaps, or possibly red. I paw through the racks of fabrics and colours, sighing. Shopping for clothes has never been my forte, and Ginny is off somewhere else with Luna, her other bridesmaid, to pick her bouquet._

_"You're looking in the wrong section, Granger," a voice comes from my left, and I turn to see the familiar face of Draco Malfoy. An irrational surge of annoyance goes through me. We had become somewhat good friends during our last year at Hogwarts when he had been Head Boy and I had been Head Girl. Sometimes, I almost considered him as I considered Ron and Harry—the brother that I never had... possibly more. But as soon as we had left he hadn't spared a second glance for me, despite us working in the same department in the ministry. And _now_ he talks to me, after a whole year of ignoring me? _

_"I have no idea what you're talking about, ferr— Malfoy." I say irritably, and push the delicate bits of fabric aside with more force than necessary. He just continues to watch me with those unfathomable grey eyes of his._

_"The brides' dresses are stocked over there. Unless, of course, you're deciding to be an unconventional bride and wear colour, but I was always under the impression you wanted a traditional wedding," he says, his eyes flashing, as if he is trying to remind myself of that night when we were both under the influence of butterbeer. As if I needed reminding. He was the one who had forgotten _us_ for a whole year. _

_"For your information, Malfoy, I am not getting married!" I hiss, abandoning my half-hearted search for a dress in order to look at him properly. It is a mistake. His face is bent much too close to mine, closer than I realised, and the full impact of his face mere inches from mine after a whole year of not seeing it save through sidewards glances is…considerable. "And you know nothing about me, at least not enough to deduce that I want a traditional wedding. For all you know, in the _year_ you've been ignoring me, my preferences might have changed."_

_"If I have been avoiding you, Granger, it is with good reason; or has your mighty Gryffindor brain ruled out that possibility?" he snaps, annoyed. I open my mouth to argue, but before I can get out an angry word, his face turns genuinely, sincerely, _disarmingly_ curious. _

_"So… if you're not getting married… who is?" he asks, looking at the rack of silk dresses I had been rummaging through. _

_"Ginny Weasley," I say through gritted teeth. "Not that that's anything to you, I suppose."_

_"No," he admits, "not really." His gaze is pensive, and I am struck with a sudden curiosity of my own._

_"A question for a question, then. Why did you assume I was the one getting married?" I ask, and the corner of his lips twitches, perhaps remembering the night of 'twenty questions' that we have been alluding to for all our three-minute conversation. _

_"That game doesn't work quite as well without butterbeer. But as you answered mine… I assumed you were marrying Weasley. Wasn't that the standing arrangement?" he asks, and to my surprise (and outrage) he has some bitterness in his voice. He has _no _right to be… bitter… over who I may or may not choose to marry. _

_"For your information, there is no _arrangement_ between anyone and myself concerning _marriage,"_ I grind out, annoyed. "And you've been listening to office rumours. Ron and I have been over since halfway through our last year at Hogwarts," I add, for no discernible reason. It just…. Slips out. This, for some reason, disturbs me. Why do I care whether Malfoy knows about my relationship status?_

_His eyes sharpen as soon as he hears this, and they latch onto mine. Chocolate and molten silver. I hold his gaze, fighting the urge to look away. Finally, he smiles._

_"I see. No Granger, I haven't been listening to office gossip. I'm merely… observant."_

_"Well in that case, I do believe it's time you got some glasses," I quip, going back to my dress searching. I feel, rather than see, him smile ruefully and shake his head. His pale hands join me on the rack, and I almost stumble from the shock._

_"So the Gryffindor minx made you her bridesmaid?" he asks, looking through the dresses casually. I stare at him. _

_"What's it to you?" I ask, echoing an earlier sentiment. He just keeps looking through the rack, and I shake my head._

_"Yes," I answer. "I'm her bridesmaid. Along with Luna, of course. And the minx's name is _Ginny."

_"Of course," he says absentmindedly, before asking me another inane question. "What colour is Ginny's dress?"_

_"White, with red satin accents," I say automatically, before I could stop myself. His lips twitch again, no doubt at this sign of Gryffindor solidarity. Why does Malfoy want to know this? It's beyond my comprehension._

_"If you think asking about Ginny's dress is going to get you an invite to the wedding, you're sadly mistaken," I inform him, moving onto another rack. He laughs openly, and I stare at him again. In the year that I'd been working with him in the same department, I have never heard him laugh._

_"Oh, don't worry, I'm not looking to snag an invitation to the she-weasel's wedding," he says, now actually smiling. "On the other hand…" he produces a peacock-green silk dress, the colour shimmering subtly between green and blue. "That's not to say that I don't have an ulterior motive," he says innocently, handing me the stunning garment. "Here. Try this on. Bridesmaid dresses, right? She won't want pink because it would clash with her precious hair. Anything gold and yellow is ruled out because that'd make the wedding too sickeningly Gryffindor. Black and grey go with everything but they're not exactly the ideal choice for a summer wedding. Neither is brown or purple, and brown doesn't suit you anyway. Red is too eye-catching, detracts from the bride and bridesmaids aren't supposed to wear white for the same reason. That leaves blue and green, and since I don't think the she-weasel would stand for green at her wedding and blue clashes with red, you're left with this compromise."_

_I take the garment from him, stunned… and to be honest, a little suspicious. "You have an ulterior motive then?" I ask, holding the dress with the tips of my fingers. He rolls his eyes._

_"If I do, you won't know what it is until you put that on, will you?" he asks, mocking. "Oh for Christ's sake, Granger, I haven't poisoned the fabric. Put it on. The worst it can do is look bad on you," he says, when I still don't move. I make note of his use of the muggle expression._

_"Christ's sake, huh?" I rib, as I walk towards the dressing room. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to take the Lord's name in vain?"_

_"Get off with you, you infuriating witch," he says, and I put on an uncharacteristic smirk as I close the door of the dressing room behind me. I slip the dress on over me and it settles like a soft summer shower, green and blue and every colour in between._

_"I still don't understand why you're helping me pick out the bridesmaid's dresses for Ginny's wedding," I call out to him._

_"I have an ulterior motive, remember?" he says. "Get out here so I can see you."_

_I roll me eyes at his bossy tone but I comply. It surprises me how quickly we fall into our old routine of light bantering. I walk out of the change room and strike the proverbial pose, albeit sarcastically. _

_ "Liking what you see, ferret?" I ask, but he doesn't respond. His eyes roam over my body and I am suddenly wondering if accepting his help in choosing a dress wasn't the wisest thing to do. He walks over to me and I almost take a step back, but I hold my ground._

_"Calm down, Granger. I'm not going to _Avada_ you, I just want to see what it looks like from the back," he says, his voice soothing as he walks behind me. I whip my head around to keep him in sight, only to find him standing much, much too close to me. His hands come up and twist my hair into a gentle knot, exposing my neck, and I turn my head again, unable to meet his silvery grey eyes._

_"Hmm, yes, your hair will have to be worn up, I think," he muses, and his breath is warm on the back of my neck. I stiffen and turn around fully to face him; again, I do not realise how close he is to me until I am facing him, literally nose-to-nose with him. Or more like eye-to-chin. He has at least another head on me in height. _

_"I still don't know your ulterior motive," I whisper, feeling lightheaded for no reason apart from his proximity. And that definitely wasn't a reason for light-headedness. Perhaps it was this dress. Yes, he must have done something to it. That must be it. _

_"My ulterior motive…" he trails off, as if he is distracted. His eyes never leave mine. Suddenly, he snaps up, as if he is aware of what he is doing, what _we_ are doing. We are leaning in closer to each other. _

_"It looks… good… on you," he says, and it comes out strangled. "I have to be going, Granger. See you around."He starts walking away abruptly._

_"Wai— what makes you think I'll get this— I still don't know your ulterior motive!" I say, frustrated. He stops and eyes me speculatively._

_"Nobody's making you get the dress, Granger. I simply offered an option that looks good on you, will probably look good on Luna too remembering her eye colour, and doesn't offend anyone's sensibilities. And as for ulterior motives, isn't that the point— that you don't find out?" His eyes suddenly turn scorching, burning— liquid quicksilver, as changeable, as beautiful and as dangerous. _

_"But as for the ulterior motive… I still think you're looking in the wrong section—I think you'd look much, _much_ better in one of those," he says, pointing to the racks of pristine white bride's dresses. He holds my gaze in his for a moment longer before turning and stalking out of the shop. _

_What? Why would I look better in a bride's dress? Is he implying that I should be getting married to Ron? Or is he just saying I look better in white than blue-green? And what was his ulterior motive, then? And why does he know Luna's eye colour? Or… I freeze as another possibility occurs to me. Is he saying I'd look better in a bride's dress… I remember the fiery look in his eyes as he contemplated me… because he wants me to marry him?_

_I shake my head. That was ridiculous. He had been ignoring me for a full year— why would he imply that? Besides… despite our… 'friendship', I was still a muggleborn. That was a physical barrier that he and his kind could never overlook. I was being ridiculous. _

_But despite all that convincing of myself, when I change out of the dress and leave the shop, I ask the woman at the cash register for two of the peacock-silk dress… one in my size and one in Luna's._


	3. Chapter 3

******A/N: Thanks for all the favourites and follows, guys~! It means a lot to me! Keep the reviews coming, as well! Thanks so much! **

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_But despite all that convincing of myself, when I change out of the dress and leave the shop, I ask the woman at the cash register for two of the peacock-silk dress… one in my size and one in Luna's._

* * *

**_Don't say yes, run away now_**

The memories didn't stop there. It looked like my mind is going to give me a crash-course reminder of exactly _why_ I had come to this thrice-damned wedding in the first place. They kept coming, one after the other, for some reason in chronological order.

_We are fourteen and both at the Yule Ball. I am dancing with Viktor, for once feeling like a proper girl and not just the brains of an operation. He looks at me like I'm the only girl in existence, and I should be focused entirely on him and him alone, but for some reason my eyes are wandering. Wandering to a figure in black, dancing with a figure in pink. Malfoy… and Parkinson. _

_The song ends and I pry myself away from Viktor with a smile and the excuse of needing a drink. He lets me go graciously, kissing my hand as I walk off. I walk to my table and ask my empty glass for punch, and it obeys. I sip and walk casually, suddenly deciding the Hall is much too stuffy. I walk outside in search of fresh air, not minding the fact that it is December and likely below zero outside. I stop when I hear voices and hurriedly hide myself in a nearby bush of mistletoe. _

_"— sick of these games, Draco. That's what it is to you, isn't it? Just a game?"_

_"Of course not, Pansy, but dammit just because I agreed to come to the Yule Ball with you—"_

_"You only agreed because you didn't want to look like an idiot without a date! I'm asking for the last time, Draco. Go out with me. A simple yes or no will do!"_

_There is a silence, in which I suddenly find myself hoping he will say no. Not because of any feelings on my part towards the albino ferret, but because Pansy would be so much better off without that fickle excuse for a boy. _

_"… Yes."_

_What? What did I just hear? Pansy squeals girlishly and I can only assume she has thrown her arms around him, for I hear a soft 'oomph' as though Draco has had the breath knocked out of him. He laughs and for some reason I feel the urge to run, far away. And I do. And that's when I run into Ron, who accuses me of 'fraternising with the enemy'. _

* * *

**_I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door_**

_We are sixteen and I'm standing in the graveyard in Hogsmeade, the snow falling thick and fast around me. The shrieking shack is visible at one end of the graveyard, and the village and shops beyond it. Hogsmeade at the moment would be alive with students from Hogwarts swarming around, but everything is eerily quiet here. I dust the snow off an old wooden bench and sit facing the village. I am in need of some peace to think for myself._

_What Harry tells me about his lessons with Dumbledore so far is disturbing, to put it mildly. I do not wish to dwell on it too much. But it has got me thinking about other issues. Harry, I know, will stop at nothing to destroy Voldemort once and for all. As would all of us. The problem with Harry is that he refused to accept help sometimes. And so Ron and I have to present our help in a way that makes it impossible to decline._

_I also need to think about my parents. If Harry, Ron and I are going to drop out of school (Harry hasn't said this yet, but it's obvious really and it's his only option) I need them safely out of harm's way. I will not allow them to be taken hostage and used against me. I already have a plan… but it is this plan that brings me up here today. Can I really do it? Can I really mess with my parent's memories, erase myself from their minds, and send them to somewhere as far away as Australia? I do not know if I have the courage to go through with such a scheme. A single tear wells up in my eye._

_Just as it is about to fall down my cheek, a real sob comes from somewhere behind me and I turn. There is nothing and no-one there, save a ruined, crumbling old church barely standing at the edge of the graveyard. The whispers of haunting drift back to me and I push it out of my mind. The supposed haunting of the Shrieking Shack was due to Remus Lupin's transfigurations there as a boy, nothing more. I draw my wand and make my way slowly to the church. I open the back door, slowly, and stop. _

_I am looking down the aisle of what once must have been a magnificent church. However the left side of the ceiling is sagging and the beautiful stained-glass windows are mostly shattered. The pews are in disrepair, some snapped cleanly in half and some lying in piles of matchsticks where they once used to be. And kneeling at the foot of the altar, his back to me, clearly sobbing, is a pale, distinctively blonde figure. _

_"I don't know, I don't know what to do anymore… Funny, at this stage a stupid Gryffindor would be more use to his plans than me… Gryffindors, at least, aren't cowards… A Gryffindor might have had the courage necessary to go through with this… I – I—"_

_He stiffens, suddenly, and before I can move, he turns around. His silver-grey eyes bore into mine, and I find that I am quite helpless, pinned by his gaze like a small mammal under the scrutiny of a snake. _

_"Why are you here?" he hisses, getting up and striding over to me. I back out of the church. "Why are you eavesdropping on me?" I find my voice has deserted me as this boy-no-longer makes his furious way towards me. "Why are you here, Mudblood wench?!" he demands, and irritation gives me voice. _

_"Don't call me that!" I yell, and he stops._

_"What? Don't call you for what you are? I call people by their names, Mudblood. And it just so happens that Mudblood is your name. So why wouldn't I call you that?" _

_His taunting voice fires me up. "Because," I answer, my own voice shaking with fury, "then I should be calling you a weak-blooded coward, since you don't even seem to have the conviction to stick through the side that _you _chose in this war. What will your master say when he finds out you've been moping your eyes out in this dusty church, ferret? What then?"_

_His silver eyes snap, and I am suddenly afraid that I have crossed a line. His hand twitches, as though he is aching to draw his wand and hex me to oblivion, but the only thing he says after a long stretch of silence is "I didn't choose a side in the war. Just like you didn't choose a side in the war, either. Being born a Muggle-born, your side was chosen for you. And being born a Malfoy, my side was chosen, as well." With this speech, he pushes past me and out the back door of the church, only stopping just long enough to issue a threat: 'and if you tell anyone what happened here, Granger, I promise to make your every waking moment a living hell.' I open my mouth to yell back at him, but the only thing that stops me is the realisation he has called me Granger and not Mudblood. _

* * *

**_Don't wait or say a single vow_**

_We are seventeen and meeting in the worst possible way imaginable. I captured. Weak. Vulnerable. And he… he examining me with a raw emotion in his flickering silver eyes, refusing to identify me as _the Mudblood girl_ despite having known my face for six years._

_"Look closer, Draco! If this is indeed the Mudblood girl, then it might be that the Dark Lord will once again raise our standing—"_

_"I… yeah, maybe. It could be."_

_"But you're not sure?" Bellatrix Lestrange's voice snarls, frustrated with her nephew._

_"I… not… really…" he says weakly, his silver eyes never leaving mine. _

_My lips almost quirk, despite the severity of the situation. A year ago, I had called him a weak-blooded coward for not having the guts to stick to the side he had chosen in the war. And now it was his weak-blooded cowardice that was even giving us this brief few minute's respite. His gaze still holds mine._

_'Don't react to this. Don't wait.' A voice suddenly speaks in my mind, and I do my best not to start. It speaks in his voice and I know, somehow, it is him. I had heard from Harry that having someone else in your own head was an extremely discomfiting experience… but I must not have noticed, what with all the physical discomforts that my body was going through._

_'Don't wait for what?' I think vaguely._

_'Don't wait when… when something happens. If there's a chance. Take it. I can't give you any definites, I can't make you any vows, but… if anything happens and you can get away, don't wait for your friends. Don't wait for anything.'_

_Abruptly, he withdraws from my mind, and I regain my bearings only to find the demented eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange looking down at me, holding the sword of Godric Gryffindor and looking ominously crazed. _

* * *

**_You need to hear me out_**

_We are eighteen and meeting in a compartment in the Hogwarts express. For reasons unfathomable to me, McGonagall has elected him as Head Boy to my Head Girl, expecting us to get along. As if that wasn't an endeavour doomed to failure from the start. _

_"Granger," he acknowledges me with the simple word. I am tempted to return 'Ferret', but manage to restrain myself._

_"Malfoy. Head Boy, I see? Looks like the weak-blooded cowardice paid off," I say, and immediately regret it. Some show of civility, Hermione. I scold myself internally as his features harden._

_"My weak-blooded cowardice is ultimately what saved you, Granger. I wouldn't go shooting my mouth off about it," he says through clenched teeth._

_"YOU saved me? In what alternate universe have you ever saved me from anything except perhaps feeling even a marginal bit of happiness in your presence?"_

_"Perhaps you forget I refused to identify you when you were captured and brought to my house, Granger? What do you think they would have done with you if I—"_

_"They ended up torturing me anyway, thank you very much! YOU didn't do anything! They—"_

_"Okay Granger, stop shouting, people are staring!" he cuts across me, sounding a tad panicked. And indeed, people are poking their heads out of their compartments, peering curiously at the ruckus. I threaten all of them with docked points and detentions, and they hastily withdraw their heads and shut their compartment door behind them. _

_"They, your family, your blood relations, tortured me, carved words into my flesh with their wands, left—"_

_"I'm aware of all that! Believe me, I am aware," he says, softly. "Please, Granger. I didn't call you to start a fight. You need to hear me out. Please, just—"_

_"No," I hiss, "You have nothing to say which will interest me."_

_"Um—" someone clears her throat, and both of us turn to look at her. "Yes?" I snap at the small girl with brown hair who is fidgeting nervously._

_"Um, bad timing?" she says timidly. "I'm Millie Arthen. I'm Hufflepuff fifth year prefect. I… I thought the meeting was here…"_

_I blink and stare at Malfoy. He sighs and gives me a look that clearly says 'we are not done.' _

_"Prefect's meetings, Granger. We're supposed to tell them what to do, remember?"_

_"Of course I do," I snap, annoyed that he is the one reminding me what to do. "Come on, Millie, let's get inside the compartment."_

* * *

**_And they said, 'Speak now'._**

_We're a month into our new year at Hogwarts. He corners me one day in the Head's Commons, apparently tired of my ignoring and avoiding him. I am not aware I had been doing that, and I tell him so. His lip twitches, and I scowl._

_"Don't give me that rubbish, Granger. Despite what you think, I do possess some intelligence."_

_"You've yet to show it, then," I retort. He sighs._

_"I know, Granger, I know… in your mind I am irredeemable. And maybe I am. But I have been showing remorse. Not only that, I am genuinely remorseful. I volunteered to be Head Boy this year so I could at least try to make amends. You think back and tell me…. Has there been any instance in the past month in which I have treated you with anything less than the highest courtesy?"_

_"I—you…" I stop, unable to think of anything. _

_"Exactly," he says, rubbing his temples. "Look, Granger, I'm not looking to be friends, or anything. Even I know that's beyond my league after everything you've suffered from me. All I want is just a general acknowledgement that I exist, and that I am some kind of human being. I know that sounds ironic after years of me believing that you are sub-human because of your blood… but wouldn't that make you a hypocrite if you did the same?" He grins twistedly. "Besides, this is going to be a long and unproductive year if the Head Girl and Head Boy are ignoring each other. Please, just… pretend to be civil and you can bad-mouth me all you want in your head. I just need something to work with."_

_I just stare at him, utterly surprised. This is _complete sincerity_ from Draco Malfoy, the boy— well, not a boy anymore, man— who wouldn't know the meaning of either word. _

_"You can speak now, Granger," he says, when I just stare at him without talking._

_I still don't say anything._

_His features harden. "Look, Granger, I'm sorry I tried, okay? Fine. I'll leave you alone from now. I'll only come to you when I absolutely have to, I assure you." He turns to leave._

_"Yes," I squeak, impulsively._

_He stops. "Yes what, Granger? Yes, you'll try to be civil to me?"_

_"No," I say, and he turns. I gulp. "Yes, let's be friends, Draco Malfoy."_

_The breathtaking smile that breaks out across his face has mine quirking in an answering smile. _

* * *

**_Don't say yes, run away now_**

_It's a week after our so-called truce. I run into the Head's Commons, my cheeks flushed and my hair wild. My heart is beating a thousand miles a minute. _

_"You look particularly dishevelled today, Granger," comes the voice from an armchair, hidden behind a _Daily Prophet_ that he is perusing. "Care to tell me what it is… or just let me hazard a guess. It's the Weasel, isn't it?" he raises an eyebrow at me and I colour even deeper red._

_"It's none of your business why I'm so 'dishevelled,'" I snap. "And his name is Ron, not Weasel."_

_"I'll remember that when he remembers my name is Draco, not ferret," he says. He puts down the _Daily Prophet_ and sighs. "Did he ask you out?"_

_"None of your business!" I retort again, looking away. _

_"You were the one who suggested we become friends, Granger. Don't friends tell each other these sorts of things?" he wrinkles his nose, showing exactly how much he would care being told about my relationship with Ron. Answer: zilch. _

_"Ha, ha, Malfoy. If that were the case, Ron and Harry would have known a lot more about girls during their adolescent years and they probably wouldn't have such a hard time trying to woo them now," I say._

_"But the question still stands. Did he ask you out?"_

_I fidget. "Yes."_

_He tenses and becomes stock-still. "And what did you say?"_

_"I…" I take a deep breath. "I… ran away."_

_He looks up at me incredulously. "You ran away? Are you mad, Granger! I thought you were supposed to be a brave Gryffindor? And—"_

_"I ran away, okay? I'm not proud of it." I say sullenly. _

_"Don't get me wrong, you should have run away. Don't say yes." He murmurs, relaxing back down into the armchair. My temper flares up._

_"Oh? And who are you to tell me what to say to Ron?" _

_"Privilege of a friend. I'm _suggesting_ you don't say yes, because you two are so mismatched."_

_"And since when has your advice been sound enough to follow?"_

_"A little faith please, Granger."_

_"No!" I yell, for some reason upset at his cool, matter-of-fact tone. "You do not own me! I'm going to say whatever I damn well like to Ron, and so there!" _

_I run away again, this time not from a tall, freckly boy with red hair but a pale, blond boy with the grey eyes that know too much, hold too much. _

* * *

**_I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door_**

_We are twenty-one and I am in the peacock-silk dress, my hair swept up in elegant ringlets. White flowers are pinned in my hair and my feet are enclosed in a pair of simple green satin pumps. I'm standing behind Ginny in her white and red dress, beaming at my two friends who have eyes for no-one but each other. _

_I turn and for a moment think that I see a flash of pale blond hair caught in the sunlight, but when I focus on the place more clearly there is nothing there. I dismiss it as a trick of my eyes. _

_But then I hear a voice._

_"Psssst! Granger!"_

_There is only one person in the world who still calls me by my last time. My lips curve into an unwilling smile, and my eyes are searching for him of their own accord._

_"Back door, Granger!" he says, and I find him, poking his head around the doors of the church. I look around discreetly and sneak out to join him._

_"Malfoy. I do recall saying something to the effect of picking out the bridesmaid dresses not equating to an invitation to the wedding." I say, but my tone is light and the muscles of my face betray me, obstinately staying in a smile. His eyes rake down my figure, taking in what I am wearing. _

_"I always knew you scrub up well," he murmurs, before clearing his throat. "You look good, Granger. As I said you would. The she-weasel should thank me for making her bridesmaids look this good without outshining her."_

_"The she-weasel, also known as _Ginny,_ is very thankful and surprised that you should help me pick the bridesmaid's dresses," I say._

_"I know the she-weasel's name," he mutters. I narrow my eyes._

_"Then you'd do well to use it," I say primly. "Why are you here, Malfoy?"_

_"To fulfil my ulterior motive," he says, grinning roguishly. His eyes never leave me. I cross my arms and tap my foot, feeling rather exposed under his scrutiny._

_"Well? Is your ulterior motive fulfilled?" I ask, impatient. _

_"More or less," he replies, his eyes lingering. I fight back a shiver. A… pleasant shiver. _

_"Why are you here, Malfoy?" I ask again, quietly. We are leaning towards one another again, unconsciously. _

_"I told you," he says, his voice husky, "I'm fulfilling my ulterior motive."_

_"What _is_ your ulterior motive?" I demand, frustrated. He looks over me again, once, very deliberately, and shakes his head. _

_"If you still don't know what my ulterior motive is, Granger, you're more clueless that I thought you were," he says and walks away, leaving me feeling very confused… and warm… and tingling. _

* * *

**_Don't wait or say a single vow_**

_We are twenty-two and out in the streets of Hogsmeade at 11.p.m, walking to the apparition point. What had originally been nothing more than a simple Ministry meeting has run overtime. It is late summer and the air at night is chilly. I shiver, and he in a surprising moment of chivalry hands me his jacket._

_"I'm not cold," I say automatically, straightening out of the hunched position that I had unconsciously adopted to keep my body heat in. _

_"If you catch a cold and have to call in sick tomorrow, I'm the one who gets to finish this assignment. Take the jacket."_

_"If _you_ catch a cold and have to call in sick tomorrow, I'm the one who gets to finish this assignment. Put the jacket back on."_

_"I'm a guy, Granger. I'm currently wearing a singlet underneath my dress shirt and I'm wearing long trousers with loafers. You are wearing a short-sleeved blouse and skirt and open-toed heels. Take the jacket."_

_"It was hot this morning," I grumble defensively, but my hands reach for his jacket. It is warm from his body heat and there is a scent clinging to it that vaguely stirs my memory, soap and leather and that something else I now come to identify as him. _

_"So Granger," he says, breaking the silence, "not with Ron Weasley anymore?" _

_I look up at him in surprise. Surprise that he should remember something that I told him in passing once a year ago when we had been…. 'dress shopping', and surprised that he should even care about my relationship status._

_"Not since—"_

_"Halfway through your last year at Hogwarts, yeah," he interrupts, and my surprise mounts. He looks uncomfortable. _

_"Yeah," I concede, my mind working furiously to try and work him out._

_"If you don't mind me asking… why?"_

_I make a face. So many people have asked me that. So many. And the thing is, I still do not have a satisfactory answer._

_"I don't know," I say, deciding to try honesty. "It wasn't like he was bad to be with or anything. He just wasn't… it just wasn't there, you know? I do love him a lot, but it's in a brotherly way. We just… mutually drifted apart, I suppose. Even though we're still best friends."_

_"I see," he says, though he sounds distracted and unsure. "So… no-one has ever approached you in _that _way since Weasley?"_

_"No," I say, now positively alarmed at the amount of interest he is showing me. Alarmed, but not… unpleasantly so. "Why do you ask?"_

_He ignores my question. "Are you sure? Nobody? Not anyone that you can think of has expressed any interest in you romantically?"_

_I stop and look at him. "Draco," I say, and he stops too. _

_"Yes, Hermione?" he whispers, and his voice is strained. We are almost at the apparition point, standing just at the edge of a forest. The village is far beyond us by now and there is no-one around. The moonlight is scintillating, catching in his silver eyes. _

_"Why are you asking?" I murmur, and he closes his eyes. I feel a strange urge to kiss them open again, to see those silver-grey orbs trained on me. He takes a shuddering breath._

_"You answer my question first. Nobody, as far as you're aware, has made any sort of intentions to you in that way clear? No-one at all?"_

_"This game doesn't work as well without butterbeer," I breathe, and he lets out a strangled laugh. We are no more than half a meter apart, and we are leaning in closer to one another again. Suddenly we're thirty centimetres apart, then twenty, then ten, and then my hands are resting on his chest and his at my back. _

_"Still…. No-one?" he asks, his eyes taking on the liquid quicksilver quality again. _

_"Still… not answering my question?" I counter. The space between us is gone, and I'm enfolded in his arms now, held flush against his smooth torso. But our heads are still tilting, leaning in towards each other… _

_And he kisses me in the moonlight._

_"Why did you— wait so long…" I sigh against his lips, and feel them quirk into a smile._

_"Still no one, Hermione?" he asks, and I laugh._

_"Still claiming you're asking me about my relationship status out of innocent curiosity?" I reply, and he laughs too. He kisses me again._

_"Hermione," he sighs, and I forget about the world. "When I finish my internship— you— me—"_

_"Shh," I say, silencing him with a finger to his lips. "Don't promise me anything. Don't make me any vows. Just… live in the moment. Kiss me."_

_And he does._

* * *

**_Your time is running out_**

_We are twenty-four and living on borrowed time. He has his arm around my shoulders and we are sitting on a little hill, watching the snow enfold everything in its white embrace. _

_"It's running out," I say quietly, and he turns his head to look at me. _

_"What is?" he asks, although I have a feeling he already knows._

_"My time with you," I answer, and he is silent. He cannot deny it._

_"Your parents—"_

_"—Are my problem," he cuts through and kisses me. There was a time when that kiss soothed everything, but now it is just a painful reminder of what I cannot have. _

_"No," I say quietly, "your parents are your life. They've… done so much to protect you. You can't go against them. I understand, Draco. I really do. Do you think… I can bear... to watch you be unhappy every day because you don't speak to them anymore? This… this is what's right. This is what we both should do." I stand up, my tears flowing freely, and walk away while I can. Before he has every part of me and not just one part. At least this way, the only thing that can be broken is the part he holds— my heart. _

* * *

**_And they said, 'Speak now'._**

_We are twenty-five and I am throwing myself into my work. I request a transfer of department so I no longer have to see him. I am not avoiding him; I merely have a lot of work to get done. At least, that is how I am convincing myself._

_"Hermione," a voice calls, and I am tempted to lock my office door so he cannot get through. But before I can act on this temptation, he opens my door and walks in._

_"Yes, Draco?" I say brusquely. "Make it quick. I'm busy."_

_He swallows. "Hermione. Please, listen to me. I… it's been a year since you've walked away from me. You know I'm getting married to Astoria Greengrass soon. But… I have to know… please… I know it's been a year, but… do you still love me? Did you ever love me?"_

_I look up at him. "Malfoy, this is so incredibly improper a conversation to have in an office—"_

_"Just answer me, Granger!" he cuts through me loudly, his eyes squeezed shut and a hand to his temple, and it is his use of my last name, which he hasn't used in years— unfamiliar, jarring— that shuts me up more effectively than anything he could have said. We stare at each other in mute silence. _

_"Hermione…?" he says, and his voice sounds like that of a little lost boy's. _

_"What do you want me to do, Malfoy?" I ask, my throat dust-dry, also reverting back to our formal mode of addressing one another. _

_"Speak to me. Answer my question. Please, Hermione, it has to be now!" his voice is pleading, and I note the use of my first name again, but I say nothing, just staring into his grey eyes. I am afraid that if I let myself speak, I will spill every errant thought that I had had about him in the past year. And that will hurt too much. _

_An unbidden 'I'm sorry' escapes my lips. _

_He exhales. His grey eyes go blank as I have seen it capable to be, completely inscrutable. This Draco scares me. Not because of any harm he might cause me, but because of the harm he might cause himself. My eyes brim over with tears. _

_"Draco…?" I whisper, but he turns, stalking out of my office in long strides. He pauses at the doorway, and speaks. _

_"I loved you. More than you can possibly imagine. I still love you. I never cared about what my parents would have said or anything like that. It took me a year apart from you to realise it though, and that cost me you. I'm sorry too, Hermione. I love you… and I'm sorry."_

_And he leaves before I can say anything in response, before I can put in words the explosion of dangerous emotions welling up inside of me— fear, love, _hope._ Fear that it might be too late. Love for him that comes back only stronger for the year I have denied it. And most dangerous of all… hope for the things that still could be. _


	4. Chapter 4

******Aaaah! Guys, I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long! College was draining me and I have the WORST hayfever. For those of you who don't know what it is, it's kind of like an extreme allergic reaction to Canberra. I kid you not. It's the WORST. **

**Anyway, here we are at the final chapter of the saga of Draco and Hermione... for now. Who knows what kind of new mischeviousness I might cook up for them in the future ;) Enjoy and review! **

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_And most dangerous of all… hope for the things that still could be._

* * *

**_I hear the preacher say_**

**_'Speak now or forever hold your peace'_**

When the tide of memories finally halted at this last encounter of ours, I came back to myself to find my cheeks glazed in tears. _So much for not crying._ Yes, the hope had been much too dangerous an emotion; I had allowed myself to hope I could talk Draco out of this wedding, and now I had lost my chance. Now, the hope was threatening do what legions of death eaters and prejudiced pure-bloods and Lord Voldemort himself couldn't do— it was threatening to kill me, slowly, painfully, bit by bit every year, eating away at me. My last chance was _gone._ I would never have Draco again. All because I couldn't say what I wanted to say on that last night. I collapsed into heaving but entirely silent sobs behind the curtains, not paying any attention to the wedding ceremony still playing out before me. I didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered.

_Pull yourself together, Hermione Granger!_ A side of me scolded. _You are the brightest witch of your age. You survived werewolves, giants, three-headed dogs, dragons, death eaters, the Crucio, Dementors and everything else the Wizarding world has thrown at you. And a mere wedding sends you off the edge? Whatever happened to seeing the wedding through even if it kills you?_ I almost let out a choked laugh as the last thought struck me. Yes, I had promised to see through the wedding even if it killed me, hadn't I? How ironic; it seemed now it would. Nevertheless, I wiped at the tears on my face with my handkerchief and sat up straighter, trying to pay attention to what the little man presiding over the wedding was saying now.

"… if there are any who object to this union taking place, you will speak now or forever hold your peace…"

I stood up like I had been electrocuted. What did he say? _Speak now or forever hold your peace._ Of course! How could I have forgotten about this particular part of the vows? _How?_ I had to do it. I had to speak now. If I missed it, I would truly lose Draco. The hope came back to me in full force, stronger than ever. If it were crushed this time, I wasn't sure I would be able to survive. _Speak now or forever hold your peace. _I had to do this.

* * *

**_There's a silence, there's my last chance_**

**_I stand up with shaking hands_**

**_All eyes on me_**

The silence dragged on for what seemed like an interminable amount of time, but it must have only been a few seconds. My hands were shaking. Heck, my whole body was shaking. I should have been thinking about a million different things. Like how Draco might not appreciate his wedding being crashed in such a dramatic way, even if he didn't like the girl he was marrying. Like how I had been crying and I would look like a complete mess compared to Astoria, clean and pretty in her (abominable) white gown. Like how this was somebody's _wedding_ I was completely ruining, and not even Astoria (whom I hated) deserved that. But none of that mattered in that moment. The only thing I could think of, the only thing I could see, was Draco. I took a deep breath and, before my nerves could desert me, stepped out from behind the curtain.

* * *

**_Horrified looks from _**

**_Everyone in the room, but_**

**_I'm only looking at you_**

Harry was the first to notice me. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he started motioning to me frantically, mouthing for me to get back behind the curtain. Pansy noticed this and turned in my direction, a grin spreading across her pretty face and a triumphant gleam in her sparkling eyes. She nudged Blaise in the ribs and he turned too, looked in my direction, and gave a whoop and a thumbs up. The wizard in charge of the proceedings noticed me and looked incredibly flustered; and slowly, all across the hall, people started turning their heads towards me, some faces curious, some faces laughing, some horrified. Most horrified, actually. The whispering and pointing started, and finally Astoria and Draco couldn't ignore what was happening behind their backs and turned. Astoria's eyes widened. Her lips started moving soundlessly, struggling to form coherent words. The whispering was louder than ever now, and the Greengrass family were pointing and accusing me, but none of this registered to me. I was looking only at Draco. Draco, who had a strange, blazing look in his face, his eyes fiery and locked on mine, shining like an angel, so perfect that he took the breath from me. He could be mine. If only I could find the right words to say now. I took a deep breath and started.

* * *

**_"I am not the kind of girl_**

**_That should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion_**

"I… well, I suppose I technically shouldn't be here. I was invited at first, but then without my knowledge I was uninvited. So I guess people can't blame me if I turned up anyway, because I didn't know. I don't go around crashing weddings usually, you know." People in the crowd tittered at this, and my resolve was fortified. Friends. I had friends in this hall.

* * *

**_But you are not the kind of boy_**

**_That should be marrying the wrong girl!_**

"But I… I had reason to crash this wedding. I know a lot about being in relationships that for some reason, don't work. Sometimes it's hard to see. Sometimes it feels so much like the real thing that you don't want to let go of the happy familiarity you have. But in the end, that's just going to hurt the both of you. It's better to let go. I know about this more than anyone. Sometimes it's hard to see when a relationship has gone bad. But sometimes it's easy to see. Blindingly easy. And… I have reason to believe that this couple up here shouldn't marry today, as they are too insurmountably different. It wouldn't end prettily. Draco shouldn't be marrying Astoria."

A dead silence followed my pronouncement, which was immediately followed by an explosion of sound.

"WHO ARE YOU TO SAY HE SHOULDN'T MARRY ME?!" Astoria screeched, just one of many who were shouting at me.

"Why, miss, this is most unusual, most unusual and disrespectful I might add, you are crashing a legally binding wedding for no perceivable reason—" the M.C.—ing wizard said indignantly, and I winced a little at his words. They were true, after all.

"Whoa, Hermione, have you lost your mind?" Harry was asking, purely out of concern for me. I managed a grimace in his direction.

"Go Hermione Granger!" Pansy was whooping, while Blaise clapped exuberantly. "You tell her!"

_"How dare you crash my daughter's wedding?"_ Mrs. Greengrass was screaming, her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice exactly the same as her daughters.

"SHUT UP!" the one voice I wanted to hear most of all drowned the rest of them out, and everyone fell silent as Draco Malfoy turned his glorious silver-grey eyes on me. "Continue, Hermione," he said, and his voice cracked with an emotion I couldn't identify. He took an almost involuntary step towards me, a movement I mirrored unconsciously.

* * *

**_So don't say yes, run away now_**

"You two are both too unlike for this wedding too work," I said, wetting my lips that were, by now, as dry and cracked as the Sahara desert. "Please, Draco. You know this. Don't say yes. You can't say yes. You'll both be desperately unhappy."

Draco swallowed. "Is that the only reason you have?" he asked, taking another step towards me. I advanced a little more down the aisle as well.

* * *

**_I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door_**

"You don't share the same interests," I said, my voice shaking a little despite trying to speak with conviction. "She doesn't read as extensively as you. She hates travelling. She dislikes sports and she doesn't like classical music. And…"

Another step towards each other. "And?"

* * *

**_Don't wait or say a single vow_**

"It's magically binding," I all but whispered. "You'll be stuck in it forever. You won't be able to escape, even after she dies." Step. Pause. Another step. Pause. We were barely three metres apart now.

"Is that your only reason for stopping us?" he murmured as well, his eyes intense, focused. I found myself being drowned in a sea of storm-cloud grey. It was then that I realised I needed to say the words. He needed to hear them. Nothing else could get him back. This was the right time. This was the last and only time.

* * *

**_You need to hear me out_**

"Almost," I said. "But not quite." Another step, and that put the distance between us at two metres. Two metres that we were steadily closing in on.

"And?" he said, his voice barely audible. The entire hall was silent, everyone waiting on baited breath, so quiet you could hear the proverbial pin drop. "Was that all? Why did you stop this, _Hermione?"_ He spoke my name like a caress, and that single word held so much emotion. Fear, love, _hope._ The most dangerous emotion of all. I could feel it in every crack of my heart, threatening to burst out of me any moment.

* * *

**_And they said, 'Speak now'!"_**

Another step. We were a metre apart now. Now half a metre. Now thirty centimetres. Twenty. There we stopped, just shy of touching, our faces mere inches away and our eyes boring into the other's. He licked his lips, which were as dry as mine.

"Why, Hermione?" he whispered again, and I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent, which was still uniquely _him_ despite the cloying perfume of millions of flowers. I snapped my eyes open, and saw my own expression mirrored in his: fear, love, _hope_. It was now or never.

Another deep breath. The whole world rested on this single moment.

_"I love you." _

* * *

**_And you say, let's run away now_**

The hall exploded.

"HOW DARE YOU!" was the prevailing and predictable screech from Astoria and her family. But the rest of the people were on their feet, clapping and whooping. Pansy and Blaise were dancing and laughing like lunatics, while Harry stood in astonishment, his jaw down to his feet and shaking his head. Draco had taken a sharp intake of breath when he heard my words, and now he was staring at me with the strangest expression on his face. My heart lurched and dropped. Maybe I had misread his face when I thought it had mirrored mine? I could have sworn I had seen my emotions reciprocated in his. But maybe I was mistaken. Maybe he didn't love me anymore. I looked up at him, imploring. Whatever his emotions were, I couldn't stand not knowing. The suspense was worse than actual rejection. I needed to know.

_"— DARE SHE, BARGING IN HERE UNINVITED LIKE THAT, RUINING MY WEDDING, WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS, THAT FILTHY LITTLE MUGGLE-BORN, DRACO, WHY ARE YOU EVEN TOLDERATING THIS, SHE'S NOTHING BUT A SLUT AND A WHORE, A DIRTY LITTLE MUDBLOOD—"_

But she never got past that last word. Draco's wand was out and pointing directly at her throat, and she stopped mid-rant, her eyes bulging as she saw the wand directed at him.

"Don't— you— _EVER_— call her that disgusting word again—" he snarled, flinging an arm around me and pulling me behind him, putting himself in between me and the Greengrasses. "I'm done with you, Astoria. I never really started. I'm sorry to leave you like this on your wedding day, but you just heard what Hermione said—apparently, we are too _insurmountably different._ You have crossed a line by calling her that. You've just lost any respect I may or may not have had for you. We're through."

"Mr. Malfoy!" the Greengrass patriarch said, thoroughly offended. "I resent your speaking to my daughter like that! You'd take this— this muggleborn's side over my pure-blooded daughter's—"

"I take this _witch's_ side over your daughter's because she is far more beautiful, far more intelligent, far more brave and courageous and loyal and good than your daughter will ever be. The war is over, Mr. Greengrass. And the only thing that counts now in the wizarding world is good character." Draco said, and out of the corner of my eyes I saw Harry shake his head, bemused at how Draco had changed. A tentative smile was tugging at the corners of my lips that I was struggling to restrain. Things hadn't finished just yet. Astoria was turning purple with fury behind her father, and when Draco finished speaking, she snapped.

_"I'LL GET YOU BACK FOR THIS, YOU FILTHY LITTLE WHORE—"_

She came at me with her wand raised, but she never got the chance. Two pairs of hands belonging to Pansy and Blaise restrained her physically, while Harry and Draco both shouted the same spell that sent her wand flying out of her hand before it went anywhere near me. Astoria was apoplectic with rage. "DRACO MALFOY! YOU BETRAYED ME, YOU BETRAYED ME!"

"Yes, I did," the traitor in question said with perfect composure. "But you already knew I was a Slytherin, _darling._ And you know what else, Astoria?" he smirked while she shrieked in frustration.

"I despise your dress."

Astoria gave one last scream and fainted. Her family rushed around her, fussing, and her mother fainted too, only no-one caught her like she was expecting and she hit the gilded chairs on her way down. I turned to Draco with my heart in my eyes.

* * *

**_I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door_**

"Hi, love," he said casually, like we weren't surrounded by hundreds of people with him in a tux and me in a dress and we hadn't been apart for a year and I hadn't just declared my love for him. Like he couldn't care less about the entire situation and my announcement. His eyes were telling a different story, though. They were shining with the promise of a love story yet to be told. He gestured towards the back door of the church, grinning. "I'll meet you outside away from everyone once I'm out of this tux, or at least the atrocious pink tie."

We were still twenty centimetres apart. _Much too far away._ I took another incremental step towards him. _Fifteen_. "_Love,_ now, is it? From Mudblood, to muggle-born, to Granger, to Hermione, to 'love'? My, my, we've come a long way, haven't we?" I mocked, and he just smirked.

"Whereas your nicknames for me have evolved from foul, evil little cockroach, to ferret, to Malfoy, to Draco and then to the love of your life. I think you've come further," he teased. He moved closer. _Ten._ Everyone else, _sans_ the Greengrasses, was watching, utterly silent once more. Every eye riveted on us.

* * *

**_Baby, I didn't say my vows_**

Another step. _Five centimetres_. So close, but still not touching…

"So," I whispered, "did my reasons convince you?"

"I just told my would-be bride I don't like her dress. I'm fairly sure that constitutes an 'I loathe you with all my being' in the female language."

"But you're a Slytherin, aren't you, Draco? We can't ever forget that. Look what happened to Astoria when she forgot." We were doing it again, like we always did when we were this close; leaning in closer to each other, our heads tipping unconsciously, our eyes locked on each other and our faces drawing closer. He growled.

"You're going to make me spell it out, aren't you, _love?_" he said.

"Don't call people 'love' unless you mean it, _darling_," I said just as sardonically, and Harry shook his head as he saw us bantering sarcastically even in this most climactic of moments. I bit back a smile. Draco exhaled.

"Well, _love,"_ he said, emphasising 'love', "I don't know how else to put it, but I just told my bride that I don't like her dress, disarmed her, told her we were through, yelled at her for another woman, told her the other woman was far more beautiful, intelligent, brave and loving that she'd ever be, and now I'm calling that woman 'love'. Is that spelled out enough for you?" his face was five centimetres from mine. _Five._ His breath washed over me, sweet and cool.

"You don't know how else to put it?" I cooed, my voice honey-sweet. "That's a shame. I always thought of you as one of the more creative ones…" I leaned in a little closer to him. _Four._

"Well, now that you mention it, I might just remember… but I'm not sure, you'll have to jog my memory for a bit…" his head tipped towards me. _Three._

"Mmm… I don't know, Draco. Jog your memory? What about butterbeer? Peacock-green? Ginny's wedding?" The smile was fighting to get out now, and I focused on Draco's smoky eyes to keep it from bursting out. _Two._

He had no such reservations. He was smiling unrestrainedly. "That definitely is reminding me… I might need another kick, though. Anything else?" he moved another fraction of an inch closer. _One._

I bit my lip. "Three months ago," I offered, and he stiffened immediately. I didn't need to explain. He knew exactly what event I was referring to. Three months ago, when he had told me he loved me, when I had turned him out of my office without ever telling him anything. I held my breath, praying that I hadn't made the wrong move.

"Ah, three months ago," he said, so softly that even I had trouble hearing. "I do remember something about that night. Didn't I walk into your office? Saying something to the effect of me not caring about what anybody thought? Something like how you were the best thing in my life and how I wouldn't trade you for the world? Something like that?"

"Draco!" I exclaimed, the smile veritably tearing at the corners of my mouth. "Stop teasing me! You know what I—"

"Ah yes, I remember now," he cut across me, stilling my babbling by bringing his hand up to my cheek. My pulse picked up instantly, my blood singing in my veins, my entire body quivering. "I remember… saying something like…" His other hand came up to my back, and I was enfolded against him, just like that magical moonlit night so many years ago when he had kissed me for the first time. He looked me straight in the eye and took a deep breath. The world spun on its axis.

_"I love you."_

The smile that had been fighting to free itself finally broke through, my whole face radiant with happiness, love, _hope._ And his alight with the same beautiful emotions, his perfect features glowing in the fleeting second I saw them before he closed the distance between us and pressed his lips to mine.

_Zero._

"I love you, Hermione, always have, always will," he whispered against my lips, making me feel dizzy, but not dizzy enough so as to forget to say the right things this time round.

"I love you, Draco, forever, now and always."

And all around us, everyone (the Greengrasses had snuck away in the middle of everything once they revived Astoria and her mother) was on their feet, breaking into hysterical, tumultuous, happy applause, shouting and laughing and whooping and crying. And it was like that that we kissed again, only this time we didn't need to hold back: happiness, love, and hope.

**_So glad you were around when they said, 'Speak Now'._**


End file.
